Take a digital detox

An analog rich life awaits you.

Hello, 2025.

Five years ago the COVID-19 pandemic swept the world, changed our lives and brought us all back home. Ever since, the word home and all it’s wonderful iterations - homemade, homegrown, homeschool - have been my heartsong. Home is the sun our lives revolve around. It sustains, nourishes and nurtures us. All that we do ripples gently outwards from this life-giving force and it is here that the year began, gently, quietly, unplugged and offline.

Last month, I went without social media, podcasts, audiobooks, television, computer or tablet usage. The only digital device I interacted with was my phone, used on a needs only basis for essential tasks and communication. My average daily screen time was just over an hour, so all things collated I spent 95% of January living analog, and dear reader, it was bliss.

Instead of staring at a screen, I stared out the window. I let my mind wander whilst watching the summer sky shift, the light constantly cycling through a kaleidoscope of colours. I was transfixed by our messmate tree’s leaves, how they moved in sync with the mood of the heavens. Swaying, dancing or shimmering depending on whether the wind blew hot or hardly at all.

Have you ever lain in bed and watched the sun slowly set, from day to dusk to dark? It happens every single day, in a series of tiny, subtle vignettes, yet how often do we bear it witness and give our attention fully to the sky? Have we lost the ability to witness the world in this ancestral way, slowly in awe, in this modern world full of shiny, pinging, hollow distractions? The more time I spent apart from technology, the less I wanted it in my life at all.

Instead of scrolling, I knitted and puzzled.

Instead of typing, I put pen to paper in my journal.

Instead of reaching for my phone, I read book after book after book.

I even went to a live music gig! Sure, it was Andy and the Odd Socks, but we rocked out.

I made time for one big long walk in nature each week with no head phones to distract me from the sights and sounds of mother natures beauty.

I can hand on heart say I was never bored.

It felt splendid to simply be.

Present, connected, calm, content, still, at peace and abundantly grateful for this separation, this time apart from the online world.

The quietening of the digital noise, the untethering of its pull, was something I had been craving. I needed a reset and refresh, and Janaloguary delivered. I felt free to sink into a deliciously unhurried summer with my full attention on what truly matters - self care, family time, community, home.

We swam at our local outdoor pool and played at our favourite beach.

I worked my analog job, went to my weekly yoga class, op shopped, baked and devoured loaf after loaf of my husbands handmade sourdough.

I read aloud to the kids, played with and snuggled them, eased back into nature study and pottered around the garden with them.

We harvested zucchinis, cucumbers, beets and spuds, carrots, bananas (yes, bananas!) and approximately 40kg of blood plums from a single tree in our orchard. I picked summer blooms and hung herbs to dry in our kitchen - lavender, yarrow, feverfew, saltbush, oregano, lemon verbena, oxeye daisies and love in a mist. I lovingly stroked my young cosmos plants as they continue to grow, and kept a watchful eye on the ripening tomatoes, capsicums, eggplants, chillies and watermelons on the way.

For Christmas, I asked Santa for a flute. I had been saying for years to my musical husband that I wanted to relearn how to play, so I could join in our family jams. It being close to 20 years since I last picked one up, I had completely forgotten the written language of music but my muscle memory surprised me. I remembered how to hold the instrument instantaneously, how to position the mouthpiece to play a note and how to change the octave by altering the shape of my breath. Slowly I have been working through my Flute for Beginners book with the hope to soon be able to play my favourite piece of classical music, Gymnopédie No. 1 by Erik Satie.

Janaloguary allowed me time to muse on what I want to cultivate over the course of 2025.

As Dan and I reflected on last year, we both agreed that we know ourselves now more than we ever have. We know what’s important to us - what delights, inspires and drives us. And we aren’t willing to compromise on our values. This year we want to continue deepening and growing into ourselves. Dan’s heart is in the kitchen - cooking, bread making, herbalism and food preservation. I feel called evermore to the garden - to grow more flowers, herbs, berries and fruit and redesign our organic veggie patch to maximise our yields. Whilst the garden is my main focus, I will keep crafting, writing, reading and living slowly, simply and seasonally.

I’m grateful our year begins here, at home. That we have another year ahead of us immersed in our homegrown, homemade and home-educating lifestyle. It’s been splendid to begin 2025 with stillness and intention. And it’s also splendid to be back, writing to you.

Would I do Janaloguary again? Absolutely. But you needn’t wait a whole year to take your own digital detox. You can disconnect, go offline, put away your screens at any time, for however long you like. Consider this your permission slip to turn off notifications, delete apps that steal your time and remove all devices from your bedroom. An analog rich life awaits you beneath an ever-changing sky.

Thank you for reading my musings on the many little measures that add up to a slower, simpler more seasonally attuned life.

I hope my words help gently guide and encourage you on your own journey.

My writing is free to read, and always will be.

Six months ago I was interviewed by

Jenna Folarin

for her Motherhood & Creativity series which was released whilst I was blissfully offline. Thank you Jenna for asking these questions of me, for safe keeping my words and bringing them forth for all to read here:

Motherhood & Creativity Interview #22- Stephanie Elizabeth